Live in your heart
by Filia Venatoris
Summary: Set after "The time of the wolf". Both Robin and Marion can't stop thinking about each other. Thanks to my lovliest sister for beta-reading (even though she doesn't like Huntingdon stories).


**Live in your heart**

It was one of those grey autumn days. Marion had got up early. At five o'clock she had been woken up by the bell and had followed the sisters down the night stairs into the church. Together with all the other sisters she had celebrated prime, the first mass of the day. Together with all the other sisters she had knelt down to say her prayers. Different from all the other sisters she had added something to her prayers after saying amen. "Herne protect them," as she added to all of her prayers.

Sometimes it was easy for her to ban her former life, her friends, and the man she still loved in spite of all the circumstances into the back of her mind.

Today was not one of these days.

From the moment she was torn from sleep by the bell she had seen his face, heard his voice.

If she had at least a task to keep her mind busy it might have been easier to forget him. But she had been asked to care for old sister Elizabeth who couldn't leave her bed anymore and who wasn't by herself most of the time. Everything she had to do was to sit next to the old woman holding her hand. This task let her mind far too much space to wander.

She saw him, sitting at the campfire laughing, deep in concentration aiming his bow during a raid, sleeping, joking with the others, looking at her with this look in his eyes that he kept especially for her. She saw his eyes sparkling when he smiled. How there had been tears in his eyes when she had sent him away.

With an impatient sound she freed her hand from the old sister's. With two long strides she crossed the room and looked out of the window. It didn't do any good. All she saw was Sherwood.

Home.

Sobbing Marion buried her face in her hands.

"What's bothering you, my child?" sister Elizabeth asked from the bed. She seemed to have one of her lighter moments. Marion looked up, wiping her eyes. "The past, sister. But that's over. I'm sister Marion of Halstead now. That has to be enough."

X X X

It was one of those grey autumn days. Robin had got up early. He hadn't been able to sleep anymore, like so often in recent times, so he had picked up his weapons, nodded to Much who stood guard, and went. Some weeks ago he had realized what danger Marion was in now. Halstead nunnery wasn't completely isolated from the outside world. It was possible that visitors recognized Marion. This way Gisburne and the sheriff could learn about Marion's whereabouts. The consequences were unthinkable. Better to be safe and keep a guard in front of the convent. Now the outlaws took their turns in standing guard.

Having barely slept at all Robin could as well relieve Tuck.

Tuck was thankful when Robin came; after all he had sat in front of the nunnery the whole night through.

"I've celebrated lauds and prime out here when the bell tolled," he said. "Being so close to a monastery feels strange. There's so many things coming back…"

Both men looked over to the nunnery and the small church. Then, nodding to Robin, Tuck was off to their camp.

Right at the edge of the forest stood a mighty oak tree as one of the last trees between the forest and the narrow strip of fields belonging to the convent. From one of the branches he could see over the convent wall into the courtyard and the gardens, but couldn't be spotted through the dry leaves still hanging on the tree. Robin hid his bow and arrows in the bushes at the foot of the tree, and then climbed up to seat himself comfortably on the branch.

He deemed the guard necessary but it left his mind far too much space to wander.

He saw Marion, laughing at Will's and John's bickering, deep in concentration holding herself like an ancient goddess during a raid, sleeping, training to fight with quarterstaves with Tuck, lost in thought staring into the camp fire, watching him, avoiding his gaze when she sent him away.

He buried his face in his hands clawing his fingers in his hair almost falling off the tree. What good were these memories for except for causing him pain?

When the bell called the nuns to church for terce and some crossed the courtyard he concentrated on them hoping to see Marion's slender form among them, but she was too far away now. He only had his memories of her. That had to be enough.


End file.
